


staring in your eyes (everything simplifies)

by poignanced



Series: jake & amy plus baby makes three [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, F/M, Kid Fic, Sort Of, also apologies i do not know how two year olds talk, also i hope you like this, and i love her, i am but a smol 18 year old, mia santiago-peralta is here!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poignanced/pseuds/poignanced
Summary: “Great job with this counterterrorism task force, Detective,” Holt notes, taking off his reading glasses after scouting through the large pile of files on his desk. “This is some... extraordinary work.”“Thanks, commish,” Jake replies, using his favorite shorthand for Holt. Saying it makes him proud to be Holt’s original pet project. The best captain and best man he’s ever known is the commissioner of the NYPD; thinking about it makes him glow. And tear a little bit. Not that anyone needs to know. “It wasn’t too hard, honestly. Just stayed up consecutively for nine nights, tailed the suspect for eight days, completed a week-long stakeout, and then caught him in a car chase. No biggie.”“That is,” Holt remarks. “the opposite of ‘no biggie.’ Peralta, you need to give yourself more credit.”-in which Jake is recommended taking the NYPD Sergeant's Exam for a well-deserved promotion, and he thinks about it. A lot.(aka the future Jake equivalent to ‘Chasing Amy’ in which Jake and Amy’s support for each other shows us, once again, why they are the most lovely hetero couple on television)





	staring in your eyes (everything simplifies)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! furiously and quickly back with a new fic that was finally finished because I am procrastinating! a lot! I hope you enjoy my take on gassing Jake up because he clearly deserves a promotion!!!

“Great job with this counterterrorism task force, Detective,” Holt notes, taking off his reading glasses after scouting through the large pile of files on his desk. “This is some... extraordinary work.”

“Thanks, commish,” Jake replies, using his favorite shorthand for Holt. Saying it makes him proud to be Holt’s original pet project. The best captain and best man he’s ever known is the commissioner of the NYPD; thinking about it makes him glow. And tear a little bit. Not that anyone needs to know. “It wasn’t too hard, honestly. Just stayed up consecutively for nine nights, tailed the suspect for eight days, completed a week-long stakeout, and then caught him in a car chase. No biggie.”

“That is,” Holt remarks. “the opposite of ‘no biggie.’ Peralta, you need to give yourself more credit.”

“I think you’re really overestimating me,” Jake notes. “I bragged about this near constantly at the precinct and at home. Oh, that reminds me, Amy told me to tell you she loves the baby letter opener you sent over for Mia. I, on the other hand, would like to remind you that she’s literally two years old.”

“Well, yes, what baby does not need a letter opener?” Holt asks, seriously. “It was an honor for me to bestow Mia with her first.”

“Can you not tell how ridiculous that sounds? Who even mails letters anymore?” Jake wonders under his breath. “But anyway, it was nothing. I’d do it all over again. Well, not literally, because I don’t think I can physically keep my eyes open anymore, but you get what I mean.”

“It was not 'nothing.' Peralta, you have protected many lives not only with this task force but with all of the work you have done alongside myself and the squad throughout the years I’ve known you.” Holt continues. “Your work and dedication constantly surprise me. After Mia was born, I was concerned that it would get in the way of the incredible work you have been doing, but I commend you and Santiago for working overtime to make sure Mia is well cared for as well as this city.”

“I...” Jake is dumbfounded by the near emotional outpouring coming from Holt, something he isn’t used to. Even though he’s become a lot more generous with his emotion since Mia was born, smiling wide each time he comes to visit her, this is something else. “Thank you, sir.”

“You must consider finally taking the sergeants’ exam. Surely Amy’s told you that as well?” Holt questions. Jake is about to immediately protest, but Holt holds up a hand. “Bup bup bup, before you give me silly excuses, go home and talk to Amy and the squad about it, and see what they think. I think you will be surprised by their input.”

“Sir, I can assure you I won’t be.” Jake hardens, thinking about his original reasoning behind putting off any civil examinations or even the countless promotions Holt has offered him, from becoming a liaison at City Hall or a special investigator for a badass mission. He remembers a time back when he was a beat cop that he would have died for an undercover mission. His past self would have beat himself up for turning down these offers left and right. “I’ll just get going.” Jake turns to leave the room.

“Jake,” Holt calls out, meaningfully, making Jake stop in his step. “Think about it.” With that, Jake gives a tight nod to his mentor and walks out of One Police Plaza, thinking about what he wants out of life.

 

Before leaving the precinct after his shift, Jake wanders over to Terry’s desk, and in his most inconspicuous manner, leans over on Sarge’s desk to get his attention.

“Heeeeeey, Sarge,” Jake says, as casually as he can.

Terry looks up from his computer and smiles, unaware of Jake’s budding and possibly explosive anxiety. “What’s up, Jake? Hey, Holt actually sent over a letter of commendation for you while you were interrogating that perp, by the way. Good for you, man.”

“Uhhhh, yeah, about that,” Jake begins. “Holt actually… he actually thinks that I should take the sergeants’ exam. Weird, right?” Jake is hoping Sarge just laughs about how weird it is with him, and they skip past the whole thing entirely.  

“Oh?” Terry says, and the hint of surprise on his face is evident. So, they’re not just laughing about it and then moving past it. Cool cool cool. “You should, man. You deserve a promotion.”

“You don’t think I should do it,” Jake decides.

“I _literally_ just said you should.”

“But you look surprised.”

“Not because you’re not capable of it,” Terry replies. “But because you have a deep-rooted aversion to authority.”

“No, I don’t! The commissioner of the NYPD is my best friend and my bother figure,” Jake says, defensively. “Oh, I see what you mean.”

“It just didn’t occur to me that you’d want to be a supervisor,” Terry says.

“Well, I don’t,” Jake remarks. “Or I do. I don’t know. Help me.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re feeling about this, mostly because you’re being very back and forth,” Terry notes. “But I personally think you’d be great for the job. As much of a great detective you are, you’ve also become a fantastic leader. And one day, I think you could make a great captain.”

“Uh, I highly doubt that.”

“I don’t. You’ve been at this precinct for thirteen years now, and I have had the honor to watch you do your job and do it well while growing up under Captain Holt’s wing.” Terry tells him, impassioned and matter-of-factly at the same time. “And I think it’s only fair of you to help other people do the same.”

Jake wants to keep asking Sarge questions, pestering him about how to take care of his daughter while studying for a promotion and how many cases he’ll still be able to work as a sergeant and not a detective, but instead of exploding, Jake takes the prep materials that Terry hands him and absent-mindedly listens to Terry’s advice and motivation. He’s not going to need it, anyway. Jake, the man who considers orange soda as a healthy alternative to orange juice for breakfast, as a sergeant in the NYPD? What a ridiculous thought. He could never do what Terry does, let alone what Amy and Captain Holt do. He can’t believe he considered it at all.

 

After dinner that evening, Jake and Amy are both on dish duty. Jake washes the dishes while Amy dries them, and they methodically get through half of the pile while discussing the cop movie that they watched the night before. When the conversation begins to turn into a debate about whether or not Orangina is better than orange soda, a debate they still have not settled, Jake decides to tell her about his conversation with Holt. You know, when Holt told him that Jake was the best cop and detective he’s ever known and probably will ever know. And the other stuff.

Amy raises her eyebrow at some of the obviously incorrect detail, but Jake knows that Amy can tell which 75% actually occurred.

“Oh my god, Jake, that’s amazing,” Amy nearly shouts out of excitement, resting a hand on his chest. Her illuminating smile immediately turns into a frown when she realizes that her volume was perhaps a _bit_ too loud for the sleeping infant in the next room. Both of them look at each other in fear and anticipation, eying the room in the corner of their eyes. After they wait for three full minutes and hear nothing, Amy and Jake breathe out simultaneous sighs of relief. A little more quietly, Amy continues. “I would die for that level of approval from Holt.” On this note, she looks up at the ceiling, dreamily. His wife is such a dork.

“Amy, you’re the youngest lieutenant in NYPD history,” Jake reminds her.

“Holt is Holt,” Amy shrugs, defensively.

“Fair,” Jake notes.

“And he’s right, you know,” Amy tells him, returning to the dishes.

“Right about me being the awesomest detective/genius in New York and that I am going to take over the world because of my beyond human capability?”

“That has to be paraphrasing,” Amy rolls her eyes. “But I meant more about the sergeants’ exam. You should definitely take it. It’s time.”

“See, I knew you were gonna say that,” Jake said. “I should’ve just edited that out from the 100% verbatim conversation I just recounted.”

“Jake, I think Holt would die before uttering ‘awesomest’ out loud.”

“There may have been some detail added for comedic purpose,” Jake admits.

“Cut the crap, Peralta,” Amy says, her hands on her hip now, signaling to Jake that she’s about to get serious and will not take his humor-as-a-defense-mechanism bullshit. “Why aren’t you taking the sergeants’ exam? I understood putting it off when I was pregnant and when Mia was first born. I get that you’re worried about parenting through the terrible twos and whatnot. But don’t you think it’s time now? You’ve solved crimes faster than all of the advanced units, and your rank doesn’t come close to describing your accomplishments. You deserve recognition and advancement, Jake.”

“Amy, I keep telling you that I’m not going to leave Mia hanging like Roger used to do to me,” Jake tells her, matter-of-factly. It’s been his rehearsed response since forever.  

“So, you’re saying that because I choose to be a lieutenant in the NYPD that I’m a bad mom?” Amy asks clinically, only an ounce of hurt in her voice.

“No, Ames, you know that’s not what I’m suggesting,” Jake rushes to correct himself, and Amy raises an eyebrow.

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” Amy says. “But it _is_ what you’re insinuating.”

“Fine. I guess, the thing is… what if I...” Jake takes a gulp of dry air. “What if I fail?”

“Babe,” Amy says, gently. “If you’re putting off promotions and further success because you’re afraid of putting yourself in danger because of Mia, we can work through that. I’ll support you.”

“But?”

“But if this is because you’re afraid of failure, you’re the only one stopping yourself.” Amy tells him, honestly. “I mean, you’re Jake Peralta. You caught the goddamn _Oolong Slayer!_ You helped put away some of the biggest drug and mafia operations in the city. And you’re a fantastic husband and an incredible dad. You can do anything.”

“That is just not true,” Jake points out. “Remember when I tried to cook that cool Cuban dish and it sucked so bad?”

“Jake, that’s because you’re white and don’t understand spices. Not because you’re a bad cook. Because you’re an amazing cook, too. The list goes on.” Amy says, emphatically, putting down the dishcloth to put her hands around Jake’s neck. “You’re incredible at everything you do. And I’m so proud of you. But I don’t want you to limit yourself when I know you have so much to offer. Mia’s already two now, and we discussed that you should start studying for the sergeants’ exam during your paternity leave.”

“Yeah, but things were so hectic and we barely got any sleep, and I don’t want to be the slacker parent...” Jake trails off. He takes a deep breath to fend off oncoming frustration. “I don’t know how you pull it off! You’re a lieutenant and the best mom ever. I don’t know if I can do it like you do. I cried four times on my last stakeout because I missed you guys so much.”

“Jake, don’t you think I miss you guys, too?” Amy says, softly. “Because I do. So so so freaking much.”

“But?”

“But I also love my job and I love protecting this city. And because you’ve supported me, I’ve been able to accomplish so much. _We’ve_ been able to accomplish so much.” Amy says, gesturing to their two-bedroom house in Brooklyn, in a way referencing everything they’ve done together, from all of their big profile cases to their beautiful two-year-old daughter. Jake feels his heart skip a literal beat. “Now it’s my turn to support you. Jake, I will take time off and take on more of the chores. I will do anything to make sure you reach your fullest potential because you _deserve it_.”

Jake is floored. He knows Amy feels strongly about his success and job accomplishments, but he never really thought anyone in the world was rooting for him like this. Suddenly, it all kind of made sense. Because if Amy was by his side, how in the world could he possibly fail? And if Amy was by his side, everything was bound to work out.

“Okay,” Jake says, a soft smile settling on his face. He’s perfectly aware he looks like a lovesick idiot, but that’s what he is, so.

“Okay… what?” Amy asks, tentatively.

“Okay, I’ll take the exam.”

Amy’s smile is the brightest he’s ever seen it. “OH MY GOD, WE NEED A BINDER, STAT!” Her excited squeals are officially Too Loud, and Mia seems to have woken up and is now crying loudly. “Oops,” Amy says, sheepishly. “I just love binders. And studying. And tests. And you,” She adds at the very end, biting her lip. “I’ll go calm her down.”

“No no, don’t worry about it, I’ll go,” Jake says, running his hands underneath the sink. “I feel like talking to her anyway.” Amy smiles at that. Jake loves talking to his daughter, chatting with her about mundane stuff and hearing her little brain’s insight, despite her only being two years old. He supposes that might say something about him, but he doesn’t read into it. Much.

He walks over to Mia’s bedroom, which is painted a light blue and covered in Power Rangers, Disney, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and NYPD memorabilia and vibrant florals.

God, what did he do to have such a cool daughter?

Mia is sitting up in her crib-bed petulantly. Her NYPD bear plush is gripped strongly in her hand, and her face is bunched up in apparent anger.

“Mama loud,” Mia remarks.

“True, Mama is loud. But so is Daddy,” Jake whispers, conspiratorially. “We were just really happy about something.”

“What?” Mia says, her face immediately clearing up and her eyes wide and curious. Jake loves the way his daughter is always seeking more information, despite only understanding 60% of it. He loves babbling about his day to her and maybe throwing in some details about the occasional gruesome murder; he loves seeing her face light up and her giggle at all the wrong times.

“Your daddy is gonna be a sergeant,” Jake says, noting that this is the first time he’s uttered the phrase in its entirety. The same words that stressed him out that morning now excite him. “Well, if he passes the test.”

“Mama _love_ tests,” Mia is nodding knowingly now, aware of how much Amy talks about tests and how her face lights up. Even his two-year-old daughter knows how much of a dork his wife is. He’s okay with it.

“She does,” Jake affirms. “And she loves you and me. And I love her and you. But I hate tests.”

“Boo tests,” Mia nods again as if already knowing the trials and tribulations of the education system and how much it’s going to suck. As a two-year-old. It’s astounding how much Mia is like Jake already.

“Boo tests, indeed,” Jake nods. “Are you ready to go back to sleep, _mija_?”

“Maybe,” Mia says, pouting outrageously. “Book? Please?”

“Fine, book,” Jake says, mock-exasperatedly. He pulls out the rumpled copy of the English/Spanish bilingual book about princesses and superheroes that Mia absolutely loves, and he reads it while watching Mia’s slowly tiring face. He may have bragged about only read 15 books in the past, but now he’s so proud that this book, amongst all of the books Amy has turned him onto from Harry Potter to pregnancy manuals, is part of his growing tally.

Once he finishes and Mia is steadily asleep again, her sleek brown-black hair that is so similar to Amy’s matted to her forehead and her arm still clutching the NYPD plush protectively, Jake gives her a final kiss on the forehead and begins to leave the room.

He finds Amy standing in the doorway the entire time, a huge smile on her face. He would normally jokingly reprimand her for infringing on their private father-daughter time, but instead, he kisses Amy on the forehead, and then rests his own forehead against hers.

“Thank you for making me brave,” Jake says to her. What he really wants to say is _thank you for loving me, thank you for caring for me, thank you for being proud of me, thank you for pushing me forward, thank for reassuring me that I’m a good dad whenever I feel low, thank you for giving me the best daughter in the world, thank you for believing in me, thank you for being you_. But for now, those few words will have to suffice.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading/scrolling to the bottom! hope you liked it! feel free to let me know what you think with a quick kudos or comment; or head over to my tumblr @poignanced and talk to me over there! 
> 
> much love,  
> anj xxx


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